Blackness

I was fortunate enough to watch the first part of the CNN Black in America special yesterday evening. It became my inspiration to write this poem and allowed me to reflect on my experiences as a Black man in America and in the world. Interesting enough the experience I had in the world speaks volumes to how Black is perceived and how it was established.


By Charles Sapp II


I was told that Black is the color of darkness

and represented by the negative nature that looms

in shadowed corners and dark alleyways.

They said Black is not beautiful,

but an ugly representation of ill fate

and the absence of the Sun in full gloom.

I was told that the word human is the derivative of a man with hue.

The complexion of culture symbolizes this true,

The Sun has not forgotten us,

the brilliance lies within the melanin.

I was told that my flesh does not determine how the world views me,

although the world blindly mistaken me

for having the mindset of centuries worth of castigated slaves

instilled with an inferior complex,

When spoken, my words undulate on deaf ears.

The Earth remembers

while the universe forgets as scars fade with time

and knowledge is the remedy for the future.

From what has been said and what I’ve been told,

spoken is the translated language of ignorance,

a language I cannot comprehend;

passed on by generations, its effects are evident.

The Black that I represent,

is in the unity of color

found in all human skin.

Evolution in Continuance

By Charles Sapp II

The growth that separates living flesh from the Earth’s grasp,

seeking the living light that nurtures with divinity

and where the secure roots are twined deeply into evolving sanctity.

Learned to walk on ancestral soil with patience,

mobility embedded into memory as an earthbound walker,

following the sound of its own voice

as it echoes off the man-made boundaries.

Trespassing the line between dreams and imagination as figments dissipate;

reality becomes defined and validated by achievement.

As soon as water was able to walk on land

the oceans have rejected us from returning.

Taking a deep breath, while leaping into the sky

and swimming the cosmic sea,

the tethered roots snap and the cyclic nature of life repeats.

Learned to fly through inherited skies with grace,

without looking backwards

the Sun illuminates the path towards the future—

as settlements of dreams are constellated

for shared memories of an evolving species

recognizing its potential and redefining its future.

Mystic Spells Abound

By Charles Sapp II

In the land of mystics,
proverbs written on the backs of 1st born sons,
readable only in the purity of unfiltered sunlight.
Knowledge is the key to self reliance and preservation.
A culture aimed at globular clusters and bizarre star systems,
heretic to the future.

Dimmed eyes, dreamy to an atmospheric love,
replicates the heaven’s masterpiece in the form of affection.
Gravitation pulls hearts as one,
resembling the melding of liquid metal
to further fortify their bond.

Beneath the umbrella of solidarity
are the quiet ruminations in which spells abound.
Women bear future phenomena
to resurrect the past and evoke the reincarnation of change.
With each day passing, marking the phase of the moon’s cycle,
souls ascend to the sky as cosmic jewels,
like fireflies in the night.

The ravished land rebounds plentiful
as homage is paid to the eclipsing of the Sun;
reverenced action to appease the dual forces.
The possession of power
extends into the cusp of humble beginnings,
like the tame fire within.

Flickers of smoldering embers lurk in the void,
where humanity must beware;
the stratagem of dark forces with armies of shadows
to engulf the inner light assimilated
as the unknown, the forgotten and the unspoken.

The future phenomena are at war with nature’s estranged children.
The alchemy of love and affection,
wizardry of potions that withstand the colloquial representation of a mystic’s era.

Elder's Path Through Time's Reflection

By Charles Sapp II

Mountains sculpted and carved by time.
As skin cracks with age and hair loses its color,
eyes become filled with stories,
told without words.

The hands have touched many
and smooth surfaces can no longer be distinguished.
Fragile branches sway to the youthful wind’s play,
revealing time’s passing, briefly;
memories swirl through the mind,
a recollection of childhood innocence
as wonderment fills the air.

Bare feet walk on hot Earth, slowly
like rechargeable batteries soaking leftover solar energy
to a spirit that has walked this path before.
No needs for words, as these lips have spoken enough.

All that needs to be said, can be heard through a smile of content
and basking in the rain of newfound excitement
as bones prove durable and mobility transports the energy
of a lifetime of love, sought for and collected riches.

An elder’s kiss, meaningful
and full with transference of truth, unhindered wisdom of purpose
withstanding the duress of time,
welcoming the progression through time’s reflection.

Freedom

By Charles Sapp II

Freedom
from invisible vines
that dig into the skin
anchoring its venomous roots to invade the psyche,
behold the constriction of progressive thought.

You are capable of achieving anything you set your mind to,
heard as a household mantra.
Stroked and reassured early to accept gifts and talents bestowed upon,
second to no one, dreams are in grasp’s reach.

An ill child,
susceptible to all foreign bodies,
sheltered from the worlds germs;
including those of evil and persuasions that creep subconsciously from those infected.

Anthropology was the first lesson.
beginning with observation,
eyes bright,
wide and full of inspection,
watching the grim faces of those enslaved
without the benefits of nourishment,
overwhelmed with the burdens that life presents.

Desensitized,
a sterile environment
cold monochrome hue of boredom
settles slowly without recognition.
A drone to emotion as sounds of joy dull,
yet it only takes one to revive the life of color to the people
offering hope and installing virtue to the seeds of the future.

Heirloom Relics

By Charles Sapp II

Rustic and weathered,
affluent namesake
secretly bolded clue;
a relic heirloom
to miracles graciously embraced
and imbued upon a few.

The richness of soil in hand
freshly squeezed Earth ripe with nutrients,
rooted deeply
as seedlings are seen stretching for light.

Caught by cosmic rays raining down from the heavens,
beneath the umbrella, sheltered and unexposed.
Bathing in oceans,
standing against the backdrop of cloudless skies and eternity,
naked in fields of green pastures
while the wind skirmishes in open space and skims the skin,
taking the scent of harmony to great distances.

True color never lies
in shaded regions of doubt,
outlining landscapes of imagination,
vivid offerings
transparent realities.

The song of voice to tone deaf ears
replay the sound of angel wings beating
suspended in time, felt through the heart;
percussive.

No words may translate
or surrender the magnitude of everlasting presence,
yet may fade when memory fails.
All eyes straight ahead,
prayers to fill timeless gaps in the void of forever
ageless relics as heirlooms
the gift of insight.

Possession

By Charles Sapp II

Rapid breathing,
pulse racing
heart pounding complicated rhythms
and blood streaming at the speed of light.

Eye fluttering REM,
adrenaline overdose
verbal murmurs in native tongues
of an ancient language.

Possessions of ancestors
inhabited body
escaping mortal rest from invigorated souls.
Dreams of the days
when the Earth’s heartbeat was strong and mature
and man had a conscience and embraced nature.

Solar eclipses foretelling the future
and fire was the spirit of ghosts
with fiery passion,
spreading their knowledge of light in the dark.
God spoke freely and often to those that obeyed.

Restlessness invades sleep
as centuries of the past overloads the brain
and bones become brittle to the countless walking of landscapes
without borders and limitations.

All this at the age of 9
as the cyclic cycle of moon phases
return once more and the seasons prevail
shortened and lengthened by the elliptical nature of orbit
One will awaken with history
and that of another’s voice.